Another Mask Behind You
by JediKnightoftheRougeSquadron
Summary: In the grand world of the Parisian Opera, the affair concerning the Opera Ghost is told through the tales of players who took a backseat in much of the action told by the main players. This is a submit your OC story. ALWverse, but contains elements of the original book.
1. Application

**REALLY IMPORTANT! Submit applications through PMing, please.**

Keep in mind that I will need plenty of OCs in order for this story to work. Guys will desperately needed, as there seems to never be any shortage of girl OCs in the Phantom phandom, but we are sorely lacking in guys. I'm not really sure how well this will work out. You may submit multiple OCs.

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Ethnicity (Ancestry):**

**Body type (ectomorph, mesomorph, or endomorph):**

**Personality:**

**Flaws (the more, the merrier):**

**History (within reason, and not too tragic):**

**Ballet, singer, or stagehand? (Or really anything else that fits the perameters of the Opera House e.g. patron -ess, orchestra member, etc.):**

**Family:**

**Appearance (hair, face, clothing, you name it):**

**Would your character be interested in a romance: **

**If so, what kind of person would their romantic partner be:**

**Anything else that you can possibly think of that I will need to know:**

I am expecting quality original characters here, people, and any Mary Sues or Gary Stus shall be ignored. Regarding training for professions *coughcough* ballerinas and singers *coughcough* I WILL expect training included in history. Those lungs/legs don't develop themselves overnight. And for goodness' sake, please don't give your character a tragic sobstory past. This will not encourage me to pick your characters, and while I will not disregard them, think twice before submitting your character. I'm being serious here. I will probably write within the "world" of ALWverse, as I am most comfortable with my knowledge of that verse, and so it will be using the events of ALW's Phantom. Although it will may contain certain characters from the book as well such as Phillipe de Chagny, perhaps the Persian, and others.

And please include both a canon love interest and a type of OC for the love interest. More than one of each if possible (especially with the OCs).

An example of a quality character that I expect is shown here:

**Name:** Céline Bonheur

**Age:** 24

**Ethnicity:** French, Swiss, German, Prussian

**Body type (ectomorph, mesomorph, or endomorph):** Ectomorph

**Personality:** Honest, has hardworking traits, exceptionally concentrated on her work, dedicated, generally positive, wishes for a sweeping romance, she's an easy book to read

**Flaws:** gullible, somewhat cowardly, quixotic, naive, has burning curiosity for others' business

**History:** Céline was born to two loving parents. She grew up as an only child in a wealthy household and trained to be a ballerina from the young age of seven. At the age of twenty, she auditioned to become a ballerina at the Opera Populaire and was accepted. Soon after she left for Paris, she returned to Labréde when her father's health failed him and he passed away from sickness soon thereafter. She soon returned to Paris, and commenced to begin her training at the opera under the tutelage of Madame Giry. She has now been under Madame Giry for four years. She has moved up through the ranks, and vies for the position of prima ballerina.

**Ballet, singer, or stagehand? (Or really anything else that fits the parameters of the Opera House e.g. patron -ess, orchestra member, etc.):** ballerina

**Family:** Anton Bonheur, father, deceased. A good man in life, he was honest with every man he met, and had sweet laughter that he shared with so many. Amélie Bonheur, mother, living. Amélie is a woman of many charms, and is very dignified. She has an air of importance around her. She is not proud of her daughter becoming a ballet rat in the theatre, and has disowned her daughter until she gains a more respectable position.

**Appearance:** Bright brown eyes, thick black her that often is unkempt and tangled, graceful body, a somewhat rounded face. When not wearing apparel suited to ballet, she is found wearing simple dresses.

**Would your character be interested in a romance: **Yes

**If so, what kind of person would their romantic partner be:** They would have to be caring and honest. Céline would want someone who loves her and can make her laugh. They would have to be exceptionally kind.

**Anything else that you can possibly think of that I will need to know: **Nothing.

**Once again, please submit your OCs through PM. **Happy submitting!


	2. Chapter One

**All right, so here's chapter one. You are still free to send in OCs if you wish. And please review. I don't require you to review if you submitted an OC, but I am asking extremely nicely. Please tell me what the characterization of your OC is like, and whether or not they reacted to things correctly (to those who had less screen time, sorry, just do the best you can with whether or not they're correctly characterized).**

** Anyways, I don't own Phantom of the Opera. I was in a gambling game with Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber and I lost. **

**Please review.**

"Sold!"

The auctioneer's voice rings out in the vast space, followed by the echo of the gavel as it closed the deal with a ringing _thud_.

"Your number, sir?"

A portly man in the back raised his sign.

The auctioneer, a man who was older than he appeared, said, "Thank you. Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen: a poster for this house's production of Hannibal by Chalumeau."

Sister Roberts felt the man next to her tense up.

"Showing here," a porter called. The large poster was unfurled; the bright fibers of fabric wove together into a large picture of a burning land.

"Do I have ten francs?" There was no motion and the silence remained deafening.

"Five, then."

Sister Roberts raised the man's sign to bid on the item that had caused him to tense.

"Five, I am bid. Six?"

Another man bid. "Seven?"

Another sign went up. "Against you, sir, seven."

Sister Roberts raised the sign again.

"Eight."

The man across the space shook his head. Perhaps he did not care enough about the poster to outbid the man of whom Sister Roberts was the caretaker. But Sister Roberts knew that it was none of her business, and she ceased to think of it.

"Eight once. Selling twice. Sold," he said, banging down his gavel again. "Sold, to Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny."

The vicomte nodded once, and Sister Roberts recognized the vacant look in his eyes. He was thinking of another time, perhaps of his youth.

At the mention of the vicomte, heads turned to gaze upon the aging man. Of one of the many faces that swiveled to look about to gaze on him was a woman, well past her middle years. The madame and vicomte locked gazes on each other for moments. The madame dipped her head just minimally, acknowledging him. The vicomte's gaze slid off of her to study the walls and dusty alcoves. The madame joined him.

Céline certainly hadn't intended to visit the opera house ever again. Even with the auction, she felt some unease at the prospect of coming to the old dwelling. A now respectable woman, Céline Hugo had been accompanied by her husband, a Monsieur Marcellin Hugo. He was a violinist of some fame who could still play the works of brilliant composers with the greatest of ease.

The auctioneer continued on. "Lot 664: a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of "Robert le Diable" by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this."

And older man in the back bid on the items.

"Ten, thank you. Ten francs still. Fifteen," the auctioneer said, and another man bid, "thank you sir. Fifteen I am bid. Going at fifteen. Your number, sir?"

_Strange_, the madame thought, gazing at the dusty auditorium. Only a final trace of its former glory could be seen.

"665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order."

"Showing here," the porter announced, winding up the music box.

Only a few notes had been emitted from the music box before Céline's eyes shot over to her husband. His saddened eyes looked into her wide ones.

That electrifying night. Those dazzling colors. The laughter. The gaiety. The celebration.

The horror.

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade!_

_Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!_

The monkey stopped playing, and Céline locked eyes with the vicomte once more.

"May I start at twenty francs?" When no one stirred, he said, "Fifteen, then? Fifteen I am bid. Yes, twenty from you sir, thank you very much. Twenty-five, thank you, madame. Twenty-five I am bid. Do I hear thirty?"

Sister Roberts raised the sign again. "Thirty. And thirty-five?"

The madame who was bidding shook her head.

"Selling at thirty francs, then. Thirty once, thirty twice. Sold, for thirty francs to the Vicomte de Chagny. Thank you, sir."

"Boy!" The vicomte's voice rang out. The porter hesitantly approached him, as the old man fixed his gaze on the box.

"A collector's piece indeed," his voice rang out in the empty space, filling the minds of those present with a sense of unease. "Every detail exactly as she said…she often spoke of you, my friend…" he reached out a hand as if to stroke the monkey but stopped about halfway. "Your velvet lining and figurine of lead…" his hand dropped and he looked out to nothing as he mused to himself, "Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?"

The porter stood there, feeling rather foolish until he turned away and set down the box where the nurse accompanying the vicomte could retrieve it later.

"Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces." At the auctioneer's words, Marcellin paled and clenched his right fist together, refusing to look at the white scar.

"Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of how it may look when reassembled. Perhaps," he said with a chuckle, signaling to a few men to start raising the chandelier, "We may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen!"

The chandelier rose up, the new lights flashing as the music of an organ echoing in the distant past came roaring to life within the memories of those present, and the auctioneer's look of relish, while Marcellin and Céline had the terror of those horrifying years once more etched across their features and the vicomte's blank expression all faded into nothing as the past returned and became very much alive once more…

"This trophy from our saviors, from our saviors! From the enslaving force of Rome!"

As Marcellin began the complex orchestration, he contemplated plugging his ears against the operatic singers. The wide vibrato was starting to crash against his ears rather unpleasantly.

_You only have a few more hours left, _he reminded himself_. Then you're free to go home and practice that concerto to your heart's content._

"With feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration, we greet the victorious throng, returned to bring salvation!"

He winced. Those few hours seemed further away than they appeared.

"The trumpets of Carthage resound! Hear, Romans, now and tremble! Hark to our step on the ground! Hear the drums! Hannibal comes!"

Marcellin's gaze flickered over to where Céline danced as she did her best to smile while executing the complicated moves with grace. And the ballet corps backed off into the background as Piangi came forward.

"Sad to return to the land we love threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp."

"No, no, no!" Monsieur Reyer cried with fervor. Céline winced. She certainly didn't envy Marcellin's position in the orchestra pit – not when the monsieur was raving on about the singers' mistakes.

"Signor, if you please," Reyer said with a fierce glare directed at Piangi, careful to enunciate, "Rome."

Continuing on he said, "We say Rome, not Roma."

"Rome!" Piangi exclaimed. "Rome is very hard for me!"

Reyer gave him such a withering gaze that Piangi – as well as most onstage – shrunk back. "From the top, if you please, signor." This was said with such authority that it was not quite a request, but a demand.

The orchestra, used to situations like this, began up once again as Piangi resumed.

"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Rome's," here he nearly spat from enunciation, "far-reaching grasp. Tomorrow we shall break the chains of Rome." The only recognition that he got for his efforts was a slight nod from Reyer, which was very hard to illicit, and nearly impossible. "Tonight, rejoice – your army has come home!"

Céline and the others came forward, and swept across the stage. She didn't have struggles to remember the choreography as some of the younger ones did, instead, she was a dedicated dancer, one who prided herself on knowing her steps.

So when Meg wasn't by her side in the ballet, she felt a twinge of annoyance at the girl, who must have been off in the wings, talking with Christine.

Meg and Christine rushed on later, doing their best to look like the professional dancers that they were supposed to be instead of the forgetful young women that they were.

And the ballet moved backward as the chorus members came forward, and Alessandra smiled as much as she could while enunciating all of her consonants. For someone to whom smiling came unnaturally, this was a great deal harder than one might think it to be.

"Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests – the elephants of Carthage! As guides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!"

And as the orchestration finished, everyone held their pose as Piangi struggled to unsheathe the sword he held. Once the final note had been played, the company stood up and Alessandra let her face once more become devoid of emotion. A few of the other singers in the company stood nearby, chatting. One girl in particular, Ella, was particularly vocal. Alessandra watched with some interest as Monsieur Lefevre made his way to the center of the stage. What could the manager possibly want to announce?

"Ladies and gentlemen-" Lefevre sighed at his failed attempt to secure the attention of the company, and turned towards the ballet mistress who was dressed in all black. "Madame Giry?"

The woman brought down her cane with a _thud_, silencing the ballet girls, and most of the singers, which led to silence among them all, excepting Monsieur Reyer, who was giving some of his musicians a few corrections.

Levfevre nodded to the madame. "Thank you." He then turned to address the whole company. "May I have your attention, please? As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, M. Richard Firmin and M. Giles Andre."

Leferve walked over to the red-headed diva, beckoning the two gentlemen to follow him. "Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our soprano for five seasons now."

"Of course, of course," Andre said with a smile. "I have experienced all of your greatest roles, signora."

"And Signor Ubaldo Piangi."

Firmin nodded as Lefevre gestured to a rather overweight tenor. "An honor, signor."

"If I remember rightly, Elissa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of "Hannibal". I wonder, signora, if as a personal favor, you would oblige us with a personal rendition? Unless, of course, Monsieur Reyer objects…"

Carlotta smiled. "My manager commands." She turned towards the conductor. "Monsieur Reyer?"

Reyer looked up from his notes to focus on her. He said, "My diva commands. Will two bars be sufficient introduction?"

Firmin, who had been rather sour-looking the entire span of time, barked, "Two bars will be quite sufficient."

Monsieur Reyer stood poised, ready to signal the pianist to begin as Carlotta warmed up a little. "Signora?"

Rhiannon-Lee took one of the scarves handed to her by one of the costume masters (Eloy, was it?) and handed it to La Carlotta, who said, "Maestro."

Reyer counted off the pianist, who began playing the aria.

Rhiannon-Lee, or Riley as she was more commonly known, returned to her seat next to a few other girls as they prepared to sit down and listen to La Carlotta sing again. For some of the younger singers, they might consider this to be a wonderful educational experience. But Riley could not help but feel exceptionally bored as the diva began.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me, every so often, promise me you'll try…"

One of the girls next to Riley, Ella, began mouthing the words to the song and keeping a melodramatic expression on her face. A few other girls giggled softly, causing M. Firmin to glance that way.

"On that day, that not-so-distant day, when you are far away and free – if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me. Think of me, think of me wa-"

But she was cut off as a large piece of scenery plummeted from the ceiling, just narrowly missing her. Piercing screams erupted from the ballet girls as they and the singers scattered, and panic broke out in the orchestra pit. Riley was filled with terror as she and the other chorus members took flight.

And above all the pandemonium, one cry from little Meg could be heard.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!"


End file.
